


Escalating Tendencies

by cadkitten



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Caught, Cuddling & Snuggling, Desperation, Fetish, Frottage, Glove Kink, Kink Exploration, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 01:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17274638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: Maybe it was madness.Space madnessor something else that could be found in a textbook back on Earth. Shiro could easily imagine pages and pages of discourse upon the subject. Doctors and psychologists agreeing or disagreeing on the cause of his desires and their rapid onset.





	Escalating Tendencies

**Author's Note:**

> Glove kink, inspired by @kate1zena  
> Beta: kate1zena

Maybe it was madness. _Space madness_ or something else that could be found in a textbook back on Earth. Shiro could easily imagine pages and pages of discourse upon the subject. Doctors and psychologists agreeing or disagreeing on the cause of his desires and their rapid onset. He imagined the way society would view it. 

_He's into **that**_?

Rolling over in his bunk, Shiro sighed, staring up at the roof above him, his gaze soft and hazy, feathered out by exhaustion and too many hours staring at a monitor. He wanted to sleep, _needed_ to sleep so badly it ached somewhere deep inside of him. Sleep was ephemeral when it did come, entirely elusive most of the time. He knew how to make his mind shut up, to force everything to systematically shut down, but he also knew giving in would probably cause more problems than it would solve.

For the first few months, simple orgasms had worked. Stolen moments in the showers, rushed sessions in his bunk with his hand shoved against his mouth, free hand desperately yanking at his cock. Time had marched on and things had grown more and more difficult. There was no porn up here, certainly not any that Shiro would have wanted to watch anyway, though he supposed he would have watched about anything just to have something now. He'd been trained to use images, _devices_ , videos, hell even sound clips since he was young and it was proving more and more of a challenge without them.

Another few months of pathetic orgasms that left him numb but not sleepy or fulfilled brought him to starting to think about things beyond the vanilla sort of shit he'd been into when he was on Earth. Shiro had always been a man of simplicity. A simple wank video or a sheath around his cock, two men in a bathroom stall or on a bed with completely standard anal sex. Sometimes he'd watch blowjob videos but always got cringy at the gagging parts. Hell, even a simple masturbation video did it for him back then. Here, those thoughts did not sustain him.

Here, he began to think beyond the borders of his usual sexuality, letting things from the thumbnails he'd never clicked on seep into his mind. It started simple enough. Bondage. It was hard to avoid that when you were looking at gay porn, it just sort of ended up all over your search results no matter what you did. So, one night, he closed his eyes and imagined having his wrists bound and someone else stroking his cock. He came quicker than he had the entire time he'd been up here.

Time marched on and like everything else, that stopped working and he had to search the depths for something else. The process repeated itself into oblivion, things making shining appearances in his fantasies he'd never dream of doing in reality. Spanking and nipple clamps, choking on a cock until he cried and public humiliation. Orgasm denial and sounding. With every fantasy, every fetish that stopped working, he grew more and more desperate. 

On some level, he knew part of it was loneliness. It was harder than he'd thought it would be having no one to confide in, no one to hold onto at night, and no one to whisper all the words he wanted to hear. For a while, he missed every ex he'd ever had and then he just missed some faceless companion. The day he found out what pain really was happened to be the same day that faceless companion gained a face.

 _Keith_. The brand new star of Shiro's every dream. He'd wake up needy and panting, Keith's visage in his mind's eye. He'd find himself knee-deep in some new kink he was exploring only to choke on a moan of Keith's name. 

It was dangerous. _Horrible_ and dangerous to want someone he was with like this. For a solid week after he came with an actual cry of Keith's name on the air, he couldn't even look Keith in the face. He felt ashamed, horrified that he'd birthed his fantasies into reality with that cry. He wanted more than anything to apologize for using Keith the way he was.

He didn't. To do so would have been a fool's errand. Confession and apology didn't usually work so well hand-in-hand.

His mind branched out, desperate to part ways with the fantasy of a man he couldn’t have. He latched onto wilder and wilder things, the stuff he'd heard whispered in gay bars, seen written on bathroom stall walls, the things he'd had one past partner ask for and had balked at the idea of. He finger fucked himself raw and sobbed into his pillows in sincere desperation to remove his mind from the realm of all that was Keith. 

Absolutely none of it worked.

At the end of the day, every orgasm was completed only because his mind conjured up Keith's image or because his lips formed his name. It was, perhaps, pathetic.

Everything brought him here, to standing by the neat pile of Keith's clothing in the changing room beside the pool, the gloves he'd given him resting atop. He'd come in, intent to join Keith and Lance in the pool and now stood here straining in his slacks, completely incapable of doing a damn thing that wasn't sexual in nature any longer. 

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, trying to force logic to intercede. He was only horny because he wanted company. He wanted to be held and loved and feel _affection_. He was only contemplating this because he'd lost his _damn mind_.

Logic lost the instant his eyelids fluttered open and his gaze landed on those damn gloves again. They'd _feel_ like Keith. They'd _smell_ like Keith. If he closed his eyes and used his metal arm, he'd be just detached enough to pretend. 

It was pathetic. Deplorable. He picked the gloves up anyway.

With one last glance at the door, he hurried into one of the changing stalls and pulled the curtain closed. His trunks fell to the floor and his belt jingled as he all but ripped it open, yanking his fly open right behind it. It took a few rushed seconds for him to get his hands into Keith's black leather gloves, to fasten the Velcro on the top and flex his fingers a few times, savoring how his hands were where Keith's had been only minutes before.

Keith lived in these damn things, had them on no matter what he was doing – except when he was in water. It made sense; water wasn't exactly something these gloves would love, after all. He shivered, slid one hand up under his shirt, letting the leather glide across his skin, mostly using his palm. He could understand that he was touching, but he couldn't feel it through the glove, remained detached enough... it could work.

With a shiver, he threw all caution to the wind and pushed his metal hand into his pants, beneath the band of his underwear, and grasped his cock, gasping, his toes curling at the sensation of leather on his dick. Tugging himself free, he began to jerk off, his movements frantic, his need palpable. His hips jerked and his free hand wandered his body, pushing up under his shirt and rubbing over his nipples, teasing under his arms and then sliding up to cup his throat. He panted through it, his eyes wide and his body on fire, the quick jingle of his belt giving away what he was doing.

He let go of himself and backed up into the corner, pulled his hand free of his shirt and reached up instead to shove his hand into his hair, yanking his own hair harshly, going back to stroking himself off as he pulled. His belt was quiet this time, caged between him and the wall, the only sound his rasping breath and the faint sound of leather on skin. His hand moved from his hair to his throat and he squeezed, just enough to get the sensation but not enough to get dizzy. His hips arched and his hand stroked faster.

"Shiro?"

Shiro's blood froze in his veins, his breath lodged in his throat, his entire body tensed and much to his dismay his dick gave a feeble squirt at being interrupted, the semi-clear fluid leaking down over his knuckles. 

There was a tap on the stall and a more worried sounding, "Shiro?"

Still he didn't answer, just closed his eyes and prayed Keith wasn't going to open the curtain. His hand loosened on his throat, slid up to cover his own mouth. No noises and maybe Keith would go away. 

The curtain rattled as it slid back and it was only the complete lack of Keith saying anything at all that forced Shiro's eyes open. What he found surprised him. Keith's eyes were definitely directed at his dick, his mouth parted in what Shiro supposed was surprise, and as he watched, a flush grew in Keith's cheeks.

"Uh..."

Shiro dropped the hand from over his mouth, sagged against the wall and just stood there, having no idea whatsoever what to do. Being caught wasn't exactly on his list of things he wanted to have happen and it certainly wasn't making him hornier like he might have expected it would. Rather, while his cock was still insistently hard, his arousal was ebbing away into white hot shame. Shame that he'd been caught, shame that he'd given in, shame that he needed any of this at all.

"You um..." Keith's voice sounded strangled, "borrowed my gloves."

Shiro just closed his eyes and tried to make his mouth work to apologize, to promise a new pair when he could find them, to... swear never to defile them like this.

"S'kinda hot."

Shiro's eyes snapped open at that, his gaze finding Keith's faintly hopeful one. He saw the shyness there, the part of Keith that didn't like that he'd just said that alongside the part that was elated he had.

Shiro finally got his voice to work. "You think so?"

Keith's cheeks flushed a little darker. He opened his mouth and before he could say anything, the pool door was opening again. Keith looked startled and within a second, he was crowded into the booth with Shiro, the curtain drawn, his damp body pushing up against Shiro's in all the right ways although, Shiro was pretty sure anything would have been the right way at that particular moment.

Keith's hand clamped over Shiro's mouth, his free hand gripping his bicep hard enough to bruise as Lance called out Keith's name.

"Just need a minute, buddy! I'll be back out soon."

The roaring in Shiro's ears left him unable to hear anything Lance said, but he did hear the clang of the door shutting again. Keith took half a step back, glanced down between them and swallowed hard. Shiro followed his gaze, took in the fact that he was still holding onto his own cock with his gloved hand and that Keith's trunks looked a bit _obscene_ due to how clearly they showed that he was definitely turned on, the thick line of his length angling up toward his hip.

Shiro stared at it, shuddered hard, and decided _fuck it_ in about the same instant Keith clearly did as well. A second later they were all over one another, Keith's hand yanking Shiro's away, their hips crashing into one another as Shiro fisted his hand in Keith's hair, dragging him in closer for kiss that clashed teeth and tongue and bruised lips. Keith panted against his mouth, squirmed against his body like he was trying to fit inside it: frantic, _needy_.

It was only Keith's loud whine that prompted Shiro into backing Keith up against the opposing wall and hurriedly working Keith's gloves off, plying Keith with them as he yanked his damp swim shorts down to mid-thigh and dropped to his knees. He paused then, reverent, as he took in Keith's flushed length, the way it twitched under his gaze, and the smear of glistening precum that remained on Keith's hip. He leaned in and licked that up first, his fingers forming around Keith's length and slowly stroking as he licked his way to Keith's length and then swallowed it down.

It was blissful, relief in a single action, and Shiro reveled in it. His cock throbbed between his legs, but he ignored it in favor of sucking Keith's, tossed his own needs to the side to tend to Keith's. It felt like home.

Above him, Keith's breathing was labored, his hands – now re-gloved – were shoved in Shiro's hair, just holding on, not directing, not pulling or pushing or forcing. Shiro smoothed his hand up over Keith's abdomen, feeling his muscles jump beneath the skin, feeling his dick twitch in his mouth, tasting the salt of new precum rush over his tongue. He sucked greedily at the head of his prick, wanting more, sucked until he was rewarded with another squirt. This one he played with, his tongue sliding around in the mess of it until he sucked it off, pulling up and showing Keith before he swallowed it down.

Keith tugged on his hair, breathed out, "C'mere," and Shiro was there in an instant, crowding Keith against the wall, Keith's hands on his ass, kneading. They stumbled back until Shiro's knees hit the small bench and he collapsed back onto it, Keith crawling up over him, straddling his thighs and yanking at his pants until they were tugged down under the swell of his ass. A few more tugs and he listened them fall to the floor, his feet trapped, but nothing besides Keith's damp swim trunks between them. 

Keith's mouth was hot on his neck and Shiro held him close as their hips began to work against one another, Shiro's cock sliding pleasurably against Keith's, feeling his spit-slicked skin glide against his own overheated length. They kept up like that until the bench began to creak ominously and even then Keith was clearly struggling to calm himself, his hips randomly jerking, his thighs quivering beneath Shiro's touches. Reaching down, Shiro closed his hand around Keith's cock and began to stroke. After a few seconds, Keith did the same to him and instantly they were both straining, arching, and barely breathing as they frantically jacked one another. 

Keith whined and Shiro moaned louder than he'd intended. Keith's mouth crashed into his and that was all it took for him, his belly clenching hard and then everything snapping, spasming as he began to shoot, all of his loud groans swallowed up inside Keith's frantic kisses. His hand kept moving, his muscles straining to work through his pleasure, and then Keith was stiffening above him, his mouth open against Shiro's in a silent cry, his entire body seized as he unloaded all over Shiro's fist.

It was only in the seconds after it that Keith made noise, his breath panting desperately, his hips jerking against Shiro's hand despite the little overstimulated sounds he was making. 

Shiro moved his hand away and tugged Keith to him, pressing them against one another, reveling in having their mess pressed between them, the heat of their skin giving away the pleasure they'd just found. 

Keith curled one arm around his shoulders and leaned his forehead down, quietly catching his breath, and Shiro let his head fall back against the wall, exhausted and beyond blissed out. 

"God... I just want to sleep," Keith mumbled against his shoulder and Shiro couldn't find a single thing wrong with that.

"Not here... come with me."

"Lance..."

"Can figure it out on his own. He's a big boy." Shiro gently dislodged Keith from his lap, followed him to standing and hauled his pants back up. Keith handed him his trunks from the floor and after Keith gave a quick peer out of the curtains, they made their way out of the locker room and down the hall to Shiro's room in record time. The door slid shut behind them and it was only then that Shiro realized just how much of a mess they'd made of the front of Keith's trunks, the smudgy stain of their cum smeared all over the fabric. His lips quirked and Keith looked down, making a face before simply shoving them off his hips to pool in the middle of Shiro's floor.

Their eyes met and Shiro began stripping, his body entirely uncertain if he was starving for more or just wanted the promised sleep. They collapsed in a heap on his bunk and when Keith pulled the covers up over them, Shiro didn't complain. He squirmed around until he was comfortable and Keith was tucked up against him so closely he was fairly certain they were trying to blend into one person, both of them sucking warmth from the other. His arms held Keith close and Keith's held him closer. If there was one thing Shiro knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was that he never ever wanted to let Keith go.


End file.
